


Little, but not little

by PrincessJade (Smokeycut)



Series: DC Ageplay AU [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Diapers, F/M, Kissing, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Wetting, alternate universe - littles are known, little Lois, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 13:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/PrincessJade
Summary: AU where littles are a regular part of society.Lois Lane is little. But just because she’s little, that doesn’t mean she can’t take care of herself. She has rules, and she has routines, which help her function just like anyone else.Until the day that Clark Kent comes into her life.
Relationships: Lois Lane & Lana Lang, Lois Lane/Clark Kent
Series: DC Ageplay AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543234
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Little, but not little

**Author's Note:**

> Time for another of these! I know I just posted the Diana and Kara story earlier today, but I rally wanted to write this one so I could delve into Lois’ own relationship to being a little, and how she and Clark came together in this setting.
> 
> This fic is more about the perspective of a little, whereas the other story was more about Diana’s role as a Mother. 
> 
> Like before, if this fic isn’t for you, please don’t read it! I’m trying to keep these stories separate from my other work for exactly that reason.

1.

She wasn’t having the best day. 

She woke up late, and she forgot her thermos of milk at home, and her car wouldn’t start for fifteen whole minutes, and her stockings had a run in them, and she hit every red light in traffic, and to top it all off, there was a new person at the office.

Lois didn’t like new people. They were different, and they upset her routine, and they were always always _always_ surprised to discover that she was little. 

Not that she acted little. She acted big. She didn’t even wear diapers, or clothes with snaps on the crotch, or suck on pacifiers. 

No, Lois was little, but she acted big, and that just left people with more questions. Lois hated questions (unless she was the one asking them). 

When she saw the new person, she didn’t even try to talk to him. She wanted to just blow right past him, hang up her coat, and keep on showing people just why a little was capable enough to work at the Daily Planet. 

But he hadn’t let her. He was just too friendly. Too nice. 

“Hi, my name’s Clark,” He had said. His voice was warm and hokey, with just the slightest twinge from the south or the midwest or one of those other dumb places Lois didn’t care about. 

“Lois,” She said after a brief pause, once it became clear that he wasn’t done with introductions.

“As in Lois Lane?” He asked. Lois went to answer, but then he just kept talking. She never understood when big people did that. It made no _sense_. “I’ve read your work! Your exposé on chemical waste in urban communities is some of the best investigative journalism I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” She pulled off her coat and, with some reaching (since she had also forgotten her heels and had put on sneakers instead) managed to get it onto one of the hooks. Of course she couldn’t just be little, the world had to go and her her _short_ too. 

“I-I was wondering, Lois, if you could tell me more about your interview with Lex Luthor? I got the feeling that a lot got cut out from what was published in the Smallville Bugle, and I was just wondering if-“

“Look, Smallville, I’m real busy, okay?” She looked at him with her sharpest look, the kind that made even the biggest of big people listen to her, and he shrank back a step. “And yes, Luthor is a _jerk_. The biggest, meanest _jerk_ I’ve ever met. He’s dumb and stupid. Now I have to _go_.”

She stomped off in a huff, bumping him in the shoulder. Or at least, she had tried to. Clark managed to swivel on the heel of his shiny brown shoes just before she made contact, so she breezed past him, grumpy as she was the day Lex Luthor had taunted her after taking her notepad and wouldn’t let her take it back. It had been her favorite one, too...

She stormed out of the office and into the stairwell. Nobody ever used the stairwells except for her. They all used the elevators, but those were too noisy and they moved funny and made Lois feel unsafe. Like the cable would snap and drop her, locked in a box all the way down. 

She also used the stairwell when she needed to be alone. When big people were too annoying and dumb, or whenever Steve did _anything_ because he was _always_ annoying and dumb (and creepy). 

She came to a stop at the first landing down from the office. There was only one more landing that separated her from the first floor of the Daily Planet, but she liked this spot better than the first landing up. Sometimes people smoked near the window on that one, and it made Lois cough. 

She stopped near the window and placed her hands on the railing and shook it as hard as she could. It didn’t budge any, or even wobble, but it took away some of her pent up energy and that was good. If she was feeling too much (like now) then she’d forget to do important things, and she just knew there was something she was forgetting. Something really important. 

She gasped when she felt it. The heat against her leg. The faint hissing noise. The way her stockings got all soggy and gross and weird. She kept looking out the window, which was thankfully not big enough to show below her waist, because she didn’t want to look down. Looking down meant that she would see it, and that it had really happened. 

She looked down and saw the puddle that had formed beneath her sneakers. 

She wasn’t having the best day.

2\. 

She spent the first half hour of the work day cleaning and covering up the mess she had made. 

It wasn’t the first time she had had an accident, of course. But it was the first time in a long time that it had been this big of a slip-up. Usually she was able to at least make it into the bathroom, like she had been _trying_ to do before Clark Kent distracted her. Didn’t he know littles were more forgetful than big people? 

Thankfully she knew how to cover things up. She only owned black skirts, just in case, and she threw her stockings and underwear away before taking a wet paper towel to herself. She’d need to be more careful throughout the rest of the day. If she had another accident before the work day was over, there’d be no way to hide it, and then _everyone_ would know, and Steve would make fun of her forever. 

As it was, the only person who noticed she had been away was Clark Kent. 

He didn’t say anything, of course. Not when she came back and sat down at her desk. Not when she took a break from typing up her article on illegal fracking half an hour later for another restroom break. Not even when she took another bathroom break a half hour after that. 

He kept quiet until lunch, when he turned away from his cubicle (which was right next to hers, because of course it was) and smiled at her. 

“What is it?” She asked, giving him another look. From how he reacted (or didn’t react), she didn’t think it was as harsh of a look as the one she gave him earlier. But that was okay. She didn’t hate Clark the way she hated Steve Lombard or Lex Luthor. She just thought he was annoying, in the way all big people were.

“Sorry if I upset you earlier, Miss Lane,” He said innocently. Her eyes widened. Nobody ever called her Miss Lane. At least, not after they figured it out. They called her Lois, and some people (jerks mostly) called her things like Lolo and Lola. She hated it, but she was sort of used to it. She smiled at being called Miss Lane. 

“I’m okay,” She said, turning away from him and looking back at her screen. She took a careful sip from her cup of water and a bite of her sandwich as she worked. “I just don’t like being distracted in the mornings. I have a schedule.”

Clark nodded in understanding. “That’s smart. I wonder if more people should do the same.”

“They should,” Lois said definitively. “It makes life a lot easier. For them and others.”

Clark nodded again, and Lois smiled again. It was a small smile, but he saw it. He was oddly observant, Lois realized as the day wore on. Not in a nosy way, but in a helpful way. 

He noticed that she had to use the bathroom often, so he came up with excuses for her to duck out of the office for a little while. They weren’t very good excuses, but they were good enough, apparently, to fool anyone who was around. 

But Lois was observant too. Much more observant than most littles. She noticed that Clark kept leaving too. Not as frequently as her, or as regularly, and the time he was gone seemed to vary somewhere between seconds and well over ten minutes at a time. 

Maybe that was why, Lois thought as she drove back home. Maybe Clark Kent was like her. A little trying to make it in a big person world, with a career and his own apartment and no caretaker to take over his life.

She smiled to herself. She liked Clark Kent. She liked him a lot.

3.

Lois had tried the caretaker thing before. It hadn’t worked out.

Once her littleness became apparent, back in her later years of high school, her parents caused such a big fuss over it. Worrying that she wouldn’t be able to provide for herself, or hold down a stable job, or have a love life. She had never quite managed to snag the last one, but she knew, even then, that she was going to prove she could do the first two without any help.

It was in college, though, that Lois met Lana Lang. Her college roommate had offered to look after Lois during their time there. Lois had agreed to the arrangement, but not without a great deal of consideration. 

She had had rules then, just as she had rules now. She wouldn’t wear diapers, or clothes with snaps in the crotch, and she wouldn’t play with toys or suck on pacifiers or watch educational television (unless it was a big person documentary). She may have been little, but she didn’t have to act like it. 

But Lana had made requests as well. After Lois’ first accident, which resulted in soaked jeans during the middle of a lecture, Lana had begged Lois to budge on her rule about diapers. Eventually, Lois relented, and agreed. 

She didn’t like it, of course. In fact, she pretty much hated it. People would see the bulk in her jeans and they’d stop taking her seriously right then and there. They’d try to offer her juice or warm milk instead of beer at parties, and they’d try to put on dumb kids shows in the background during study sessions. 

“I hate wearing diapers,” She had whispered to Lana from her bed one night. The clock said it was only nine. Before college, she’d put herself to bed as late as eleven, even twelve at night. But Lana always said that she needed more rest than big people did. Lois wasn’t sure that had to be true.

“Why?” Lana had asked, looking over from her book. It was about photography, the point in which Lois and Lana’s journalistic studies diverged. Lana had wanted to be a photographer, while Lois wanted to write. She was good at writing too, even if she had a hard time with spelling.

“People look at me funny, and they keep treating me like I’m little.”

“But you _are_ little,” Lana had said. She looked confused, and Lois rolled her eyes. 

“I’m little, but I’m not _little_,” Lois had insisted. “It’s just biology. Littles don’t have to _act_ like babies, or dress like them either.”

Lana smiled gently, and closed her book. She brushed a lock of raven hair out of Lois’ face. “I thought littles dressed that way because they like to. Because it makes them feel safe and happy.”

Lois huffed, and threw her covers down to her lap. “Well they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t let being little get in the way of acting like adults. I can act my age, I just have to try harder at it than big people.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just, I don’t know, embrace it?” Lana asked with a shrug. Lois glared at her. She didn’t even know what she was talking about. She wasn’t little. She wasn’t even a Mommy. She was just a _normal_ big person. But Lana kept on talking anyways.

“You know, wearing diapers and cute little onesies or overalls. Playing with toys and watching Disney movies...”

“Disney is for children,” Lois had cut in with a stern look. She hated Disney. Studio Ghibli had better cartoons anyways. More grownup cartoons. But Lana ignored her comment and just. Kept. Going.

“I’m sure you’d like it if you tried it, Lois,” She said gently, sitting on the edge of Lois’ plastic sheet covered bed and patting her on the shoulder. “What if you just tried it on the weekends? We could go into town, get you some bottles and plushies-“

“I have my thermos,” Lois insisted. “And plushies are for babies. I’m not a baby, so I don’t need one.” 

Lana had sighed, then, and shifted her weight off of Lois’ bed. “Maybe you’d be less cranky all the time if you _did_ act little. Whatever. I need to study, and you need to get some sleep. I’ll wake you up before class tomorrow morning.”

That was the moment Lois decided her parents were wrong. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. 

After classes the next day, Lois went to the big green garbage bin behind the dorms and threw away the rest of the package of diapers that Lana had convinced her to buy. She was still wearing one, but once she had used it she was never going to wear another diaper again for as long as she lived. She promised herself that, and she promised herself that she would never ever ever let a big person look after her the way Lana had tried to. 

Lana had seemed hurt after that. She didn’t talk to Lois much anymore, and she didn’t tuck her in before bed. Lois told herself that it was fine, and that she didn’t care. Deep down, though, it made her sad. Sad enough that she cried herself to sleep for a whole week. 

4.

Lex Luthor was the biggest jerk in the world. 

Not just because he was evil and funneled billions of dollars into the bank accounts of supervillains and worked with dictators, but also because he was just _mean_. Mean on a personal level. 

He treated the waitress like garbage, talked over Lois and Clark, and wouldn’t answer the questions she was asking. She was good at her job. Really good. People underestimated her and that’s why they slipped up. 

But Luthor didn’t slip up. He dangled his corruption above her head and every time she felt like the truth was within reach, he yanked it away from her. 

Not to mention the fact that he called her Lola, which she hated more than anything in the world. 

“You know, Lola and, I’m sorry, what was your name again? Cal something?” 

“_Lois_ and _Clark_.”

Clark looked at Luthor impassively. His big, wire rimmed glasses were pushed up on his nose and he hadn’t touched his lunch once in the fifteen minutes that it’d been there in front of him. 

“Yes, right, of course,” Luthor said in that smarmy, oh so full of himself tone that seemed to ooze off of every word like slime. “Well, as I was saying, it’s terribly disappointing that Cadmus went under. After that whole nonsense with the kryptonite gun-“

“About that gun,” Lois interjected. A determined glare flashed across her face as Luthor paused. “Do you have anything to say about the rumors that Lexcorp was funding R&D on it?”

Luthor chuckled, and threw his napkin onto his plate. “I haven’t the foggiest idea of what you’re talking about, Lola. I’m sure that if you looked at that paperwork, you wouldn’t find my signature _anywhere_.”

“So you aren’t supporting the creation of weaponry that could be used against Superman?” She asked sharply. 

“I’m open about my distaste for the alien,” He said coldly. There was a scary look in his eyes, but Lois didn’t let it chip away at her. She was stronger than that. “But if you’re asking whether I commissioned the device, the answer is no.”

The interview fizzled out not long after that. Luthor kept diverting, kept denying. The more he did so, and the more he called Lois Lola, the more frustrated she got. By the time she and Clark left, she was too full of bad feelings to talk much at all, let alone focus enough to get Luthor in a corner. 

So she waited on the curb with Clark, arms folded in front of her chest and a pout on her face. She wanted to cry, but she held back the tears. She was too old to cry outside of the confines of her home. 

She felt a warm, large hand on her shoulder and looked up to see that it was Clark’s. He was staring straight ahead, still expressionless. But then Lois paid closer attention, and she saw how his jaw was clenched, and she heard him grinding his teeth. 

“That man is a monster,” Clark said quietly. “He doesn’t give a damn about anyone but himself, and he doesn’t care who he has to hurt to get what he wants.”

“Rich people are always jerks,” Lois said. She growled deep in her throat and stamped her foot on the sidewalk. “But he’s the biggest jerk,” She added. 

Clark sighed. It was deep and weary, and he removed his glasses afterwards. Without them on, he looked so different to Lois. Like when someone with long hair cut it all off, and it took a moment to realize they were the same person. But he still looked familiar, just in a different way. 

“I wish there was something we could do about it,” Clark said. He sounded so tired, like he hadn’t taken a nap at all that day. Lois knew the feeling well. “Every day that the public thinks he’s harmless is another day that he uses to make the world a worse place.”

“So we find proof,” Lois said, her frustration turning over to a fierce determination. “We do our jobs and we show everyone who he really is and then he goes to jail for a long, long time.”

Clark nodded silently, and put his glasses back on. Lois yawned, and he smiled slightly. She hadn’t taken a nap yet that day either, and after her narrowly avoided tantrum, she was about ready to crash. 

Clark waved down a cab and didn’t say a word when Lois fell asleep with her head on his shoulder in the back seat. He just wrapped an arm around her and held her gently until she woke up again.

5.

There was another new person at the office. Only she wasn’t new to Lois.

“Lana?” She stared across the room, at the redhead, who was leaning against the wall near the water cooler and talking to Clark. 

Lana turned at the sound of her name and her eyes went wide as she realized who she was looking at. A warm smile broke out across her face as she beckoned Lois to come over, which she did. 

“I was wondering when I’d see you!” Lana said, pulling Lois into a hug. Lois didn’t know what to do with her arms, so she kept them locked flush with her sides until Lana let go. 

“I was in the bathroom,” Lois said. She looked from Lana to Clark, and then back again. “Why are you here?”

“You’re looking at the Daily Planet’s newest photographer!” She declared, holding up a camera which had been hanging from her neck on a leather strap. 

“Oh.” 

“You two know each other, I take it?” Clark said, pushing his glasses up on his nose and smiling innocently.

“We were roommates back in college,” Lana said. “Which is pretty funny, since Clark and I went to high school together down in Smallville.”

Lois blinked. She hadn’t known that. She hadn’t known that at all, and now it felt like it changed _everything_. If Lana and Clark were friends, then did that mean Lana told him things? Things about her? 

She didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation. She just let them talk, and said yes or no or mumbled something if that wouldn’t suffice. She was feeling too much by the time that Lana was called in to Perry’s office, and so she told Clark she needed to touch up her makeup before heading to the stairwell. 

Unfortunately, new people had a habit of breaking her routines, even if the new person wasn’t actually new. 

She was clenching the railing by the window and shaking it as best as she could when she heard the door open above her. She looked up and saw Lana, copper curls and all, at the top of the stairs coming down. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Lana said as she leaned against the window. 

“Don’t call me that,” Lois snapped. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slow.

“Sorry,” Lana said. There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. “Old habit, I guess. Promise I’ll drop it.”

She sounded so much older now than when they had been in college, even though it had only been, what, eight years since they graduated? And Lana seemed older, while Lois felt the same. That wasn’t fair.

“You know Clark,” Lois said. It was just three words, but there were mountains of implications behind them. 

Lana nodded sagely. “Grew up in the same town, went to the same school. He even took me to prom.”

“Oh.”

Lana looked at her, and her gaze softened while Lois’ remained the same, stuck in a sad looking pout with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. Lana nudged Lois’ shoulder gently with her fist and offered her a gentle smile.

“If you’re worried I’m gonna steal him from you, then don’t. Clark and I are ancient history.”

“So you’re just friends?” Lois asked quietly as she curled in on herself. 

“Just friends.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Lana looked out the window, and her smile widened to a grin as a blue and red streak tore across the sky, towards downtown Metropolis. Lois smiled too, and bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Hey, uh... Speaking of Clark...”

Lois looked at Lana, confused, until the redhead waved her own statement away. 

“Never mind, forget I said anything.”

“Nuh uh. Tell me,” Lois demanded. “I’m a journalist, I don’t like secrets.”

Lana chuckled. “Dunno if that’s the journalist in you, Lois. I was just wondering if he had told you.”

“He didn’t have to tell me,” Lois said with a roll of her eyes. She stepped away from the railing and popped the muscles in her back, while Lana winced from the sound. It always bugged her when Lois did that, even in college. Lois smiled teasingly, and skipped closer to Lana. “I figured it out all on my own!”

“Figured you would. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve met.” Lana smiled wistfully, as old memories filled her head. Changing Lois, cleaning off her fingers when they got sticky from candy, tucking her in to bed at night. Good memories. Memories that hadn’t been ruined or marred one bit by how it had ended.

“I am?” Lois asked. She couldn’t help wanting the praise. It was hardwired into her, just like it was with all littles. Just because she didn’t often go searching for it, didn’t mean she didn’t crave it every hour of every day.

“Of course you are,” Lana said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll be honest, I doubted you back in the day. I thought that just because you’re little you wouldn’t be able to make it. But you went and proved me wrong. Even most big people aren’t capable enough to win Pulitzers or figure out that Clark Kent is Superman.”

Lois looked at Lana and froze. 

“Oh,” She whispered softly. “I didn’t know that...”

6.

Clark had a secret, and it wasn’t the secret Lois had thought it was.

She was mad at him for it. Very mad. About as mad as she got when she found out Lucy had told mom and dad about her wetting the bed when she was seventeen. About as mad as she got when Perry pointed out her typos. About as mad as she got when Luthor or Steve called her Lola. 

Lois didn’t like secrets. It was different when she thought Clark was little, like her. There was solidarity in that, a sense of mutual effort towards proving they were as capable as big people. 

But that wasn’t his secret. In fact, he wasn’t little at all. He was _Superman_, who was practically the biggest big person to ever exist. He was stronger than strong, faster than fast, and smarter than smart.

But Lois was smart too, even if she was little, and even if she had found out his secret on accident. But she was going to confront him on it. Or rather, she was going to lead him right to her. 

She watched from the doorway as he opened his desk. His eyebrow arched, and he picked something up out of the metal drawer. It was small, and he tucked it into his jacket without anybody noticing. Anybody except for Lois, of course.

She ducked into the stairwell and waited at her spot by the window until he came down to meet her. He pulled the plushie out of his pocket and Lois smirked at the sight of it. 

It was him. It had a soft blue costume with red trunks and a cape, and its black felt hair drooped down with a spit-curl that formed the shape of an S. 

“How long have you known?” He asked. He wasn’t angry, like she’d worried he might be. He wasn’t too happy either. He seemed not to feel one way or the other, beyond a sense of sheer curiosity. 

“Long enough,” She fibbed. She made herself look confident, even though she felt anything but at the moment. She wasn’t about to let herself be the one on the defensive. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He sighed, and removed his glasses. She could see it now, clear as day. The curl of his hair, the smallness of his eyes, the cut of his jaw. He was Superman, no doubt about it. He stepped up next to her by the railing and set his hands down along it, beside her own.

“I keep it close to the chest. People like Luthor, if they knew that _you_ knew, they’d go after you. They’d try to hurt you to get to me.”

“I’m tough. I can take care of myself,” Lois insisted. 

“I caught you falling off the roof of Cadmus labs during my first week in Metropolis.”

“That’s different,” Lois huffed. “I was being chased.”

“I know,” He said quietly. A small smile graced his lips, and he looked at her with a fond twinkle in his eyes. “I know that you’re more than capable enough to look after yourself. But I also know that you don’t have to.”

Lois frowned. “What did Lana tell you?”

“Just that she took care of you for a month or two, back in college. Nothing specific.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“Never said you did. All I’m asking is if you _want_ someone to.”

Lois chewed on her lip for a moment, and she glanced at Clark. After several long, silent moments, she turned to face him and put her hands on her hips.

“I have rules,” She said firmly.

“I’m all ears,” Clark said with a gentle smile.

7.

No diapers. No clothes with snaps in the crotch. No bottles and no pacifiers, and certainly no educational shows (unless they were documentaries). 

The exception being at night and on the weekends.

She sat curled up on the couch in her apartment, wearing mint green overalls with snaps on the crotch and a sizable, crinkly bulk between her legs. She had an adult sized pacifier placed firmly between her lips, which she suckled on gently as she watched Sesame Street. 

It was past dinner, and Clark was just in the other room, so it was okay. 

She brought her knees up to her chin and smiled as the muppets pranced about on the screen. Her Superman plushie was hugged close to her chest, and she didn’t even care that she was wet. 

“You okay in there, Lois?” Clark called out from the bedroom. He had spent the past half hour putting away his clothes in the new dresser that he had assembled in her room (which was now going to be _their_ room). 

“Mhm!” She announced with a nod, which she guessed he could see using his x-ray vision. 

It was a few moments later when she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. She looked up at him and smiled around her pacifier, and scooted to the side so that he could take a seat next to her. Once he had, she was all too eager to snuggle up to his side and rest her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating soundly, and with his arm wrapped around her and squeezing her gently, she felt like the safest woman in the world.

“I’m wet,” Lois said.

“I’ll change you,” Clark promised. Lois leaned back on the sofa, and Clark plucked her pacifier from her lips with one hand, while his other deftly undid the snaps on her overalls. 

He kissed her deeply on the lips, and she kissed him back before he changed her diaper. For the first time in Lois’ life, she found herself feeling glad that she was a little.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave a comment! I might post more stories in this AU if I get any good ideas.


End file.
